


I Never Should Have Let You In My Life

by mouth_breather011



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angry Tony Stark, Eventual Happy Ending, Human Experimentation, Hurt Peter Parker, Hydra (Marvel), Kidnapped Peter Parker, Mute Peter Parker, No Sex, No Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Avengers, Protective Tony Stark, Sassy Peter Parker, Temporarily he won't be mute forever, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2020-07-20 02:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19984711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mouth_breather011/pseuds/mouth_breather011
Summary: HYDRA is after Spiderman and his abilities, with new experiments to try and discoveries to make. Unluckily for Peter, they know who he his. When Tony forces him to stay at the Compound after a seemingly simple mission that turns out to be bigger than the Avengers thought, Peter is kidnapped by HYDRA and blaming Tony for it. Will Tony get his boy back? And if he does, will their relationship still be salvageable?Basically, Tony and Peter have an argument and Tony locks him in the Compound instead of taking him on a mission. The mission is a setup and Peter is kidnapped by HYDRA while the Avengers are out. And Peter is still mad at Tony





	1. Call Me Tony

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello, hellooooo! It'S mY sEcOnD fAnFiC! For those of you who didn't read my first one (What is a heart without its soul?) you should go read it (actually don't, it's kinda bad) Also, I'm trying to take my writing a little slower, so the story will be longer and not as fast paced. This will be difficult. I am impatient. This first chapter won't be as eventful as the others, it's gonna get gory.

"Spidey, what's your status?"

The comm crackled in Peter's ear, making him flinch slightly. 

"The west hall is clear, no agents in sight," he replied, dropping from the ceiling he had been crawling across. His feet hit the ground with a gentle slap that echoed down the long corridor.

"Good. Return back to the ship, we'll be finishing up soon," Steve said through the comms. Sounds of the ongoing fight in the other end of the building could be heard, and Peter winced when he heard Cap grunt in pain.

"Will do, Steve."

Tony sounded agitated as he joined the conversation. "So he's Steve, but I'm still Mr. Stark? I'm hurt."

Peter chuckled, shooting a web and slingshotting down the hall. "Sorry, Mr. Stark. I just don't want to disrespect my elders." 

"Are you kidding me? Rogers is like a hundred years old! I'm young in comparison to him," Tony said incredulously. Peter belted out a laugh, nearly slipping from his next web. He stopped moving, waiting to calm down before replying. 

"Yeah, but that doesn't necessarily make you young," the teen said between his sporadic giggling. 

"I'm pretty sure you just called me old," the billionaire deadpanned. 

"Was that not the topic of your entire conversation? Wow, I must not have been paying attention," Clint said sarcastically.

"You should have joined our talk earlier, considering were talking about old people," Tony coughed. Peter stifled his giggling, kicking down a door that was in his way.

"Why, you—" Natasha cut him off.

"Ladies, please. You both look beautiful. Now please, try to concentrate on the battle that you have been neglecting to join." Both men scoffed, and laughter could be heard from the other comms.

Peter stopped in his tracks, barely paying attention to Tony and Clint arguing in his ear. He stared at an open door a few feet away from him. Blue light filtered through the cracks, and unintelligible voices could be heard beyond the thick metal frame.

The boy inched closer, peering inside. Multiple monitors were visible, some glowing brightly and others dark. Two men in lab coats were tending to them. The monitors were showing feeds from the halls of the enormous compound, and Peter could clearly see every Avenger and agent in the building.

"Где паук?" One man said, searching the screens for something that Peter didn't know.

"В последний раз его видели в западном крыле, но мы потеряли связь с некоторыми камерами," the other man replied, sounding agitated. He began to type rapidly on a nearby keyboard, and lines of black and green code filled the dark screens.

"Guys, I think I found something," Peter whispered into his earpiece. There was no reply. He tried again, and when no one answered, he took it out and fiddled with the minuscule controls. 

"Ага! Мы снова в сети, сэр," the second man shouted. The lines of code had disappeared, and Peter recognized the corridors he had just come from. His heart pounded.

"Хорошая работа, Смирнофф. Славься, ГИДРА," the first man said with pleasure.

"Славься, ГИДРА."

Peter didn't know much Russian, but he did know at least one phrase: hail HYDRA. He shoved the comm back into his ear and whispered into it frantically. 

"Steve, Tony, does anyone copy? This is a HYDRA base! I repeat, this is a HYDRA base!"

The boy didn't realize the men in the monitor room had gone quiet.

* * * * *

Tony watched as Wanda threw the last agent into the wall. 

She turned back to him grimly, and glared. 

"I hate this place," Wanda said, her words slipping up to reveal her Sokovian accent.

Tony remembered her sharing how she had been working for HYDRA, and how horrible her conditions were. This place must remind Wanda of her past.

"You did good," he said, patting her on the shoulder. The sorceress smiled weakly in return. It was short lived when Clint walked up to Tony, looking agitated. 

"What did you do, Legolas," the billionaire teased. Clint glowered.

"Peter wasn't back at the ship when I looked, and the comms are down. We can't get ahold of him." 

Tony stared at him. "Well that's not good, is it?" 

The archer shook his head, and handed him his earpiece. He began to explain when Tony shot him a confused look.

"You use FRIDAY for communication, so I figured you would need an actual device to hack so you can get the system back online and find Peter." Tony let out a small 'oh,' nodding dumbly.

"Yeah, that's a good idea. I'll head back to the ship and do that." 

Clint nodded and walked away, Wanda close on his heels. Tony looked down at the comm. He wondered if Peter was okay.

* * * * * 

"Does anybody copy? Please, I need backup! There are two agents armed with alien tech!"

Peter leapt from wall to ceiling to floor, dodging purple blasts and shooting webs at the apparently armed HYDRA agents. They followed him as he traveled further down the cement halls, dodging every web and blow he sent their way.

They had heard him outside the monitor room and seen him from the newly working security cameras, almost catching him off guard. Peter had a newfound respect for his spider sense.

He dodged another purple blast and jumped closer to one of the agents, feigning a punch and kicking his leg out. The man fell back with a heave as a strong foot was delivered to his abdomen.

"I need backup," he yelled into his comm, ducking as Guy #2 tried to punch him. Why he didn't use the alien gun, Peter had no idea. Maybe they weren't close up guns or something. Or these guys weren't trained agents and just armed scientists. That was probably more likely.

The boy hopped to the ceiling, swinging his legs down and kicking the man in the face. A crack sounded as his nose broke, and the man cried out. He stumbled backward, cradling his bloody nose.

Peter jumped to the wall behind the man, grabbing his head and slamming it into the concrete. Guy #2 collapsed to the ground next to Guy #1, who was trying in vain to sit up. Peter walked over to him, kneeling down and grabbing the man by his lab coat. He held up a fist threateningly. 

The boy leaned in close, speaking with a deeper voice. "Are there more of you?"

Guy #1 just smiled a toothy grin, giggling quietly. Peter punched him in the face, hard enough to bruise but not knock out.

"Answer me," he said through gritted teeth. The man spit to the side, blood dribbling down his chin as he smirked again. 

"They are coming for you, little spider," he said thickly, his Russian accent making his words almost impossible to understand. Peter shook him roughly, growing angry.

"That's not an answer."

The man just continued to giggle, muttering the same thing over and over.

"Peter Parker, Peter Parker . . ." 

The boy gripped the man's shoulders and slammed him into the ground, cracking the foundation. This was not good.

For a moment, the world became impossibly quiet. The silence was only interrupted by the crackling of Peter's earpiece. How convenient, it worked.

"Peter? Spiderman, do you copy?"

The teen shivered, straightening out of habit. "Yeah, Tony. I copy."

Peter could practically hear the billionaire's smile when the man replied.

"Yay, he didn't call me Mr. Stark! Now get back to the ship, you little rugrat." Peter cringed at the anger and concern laced in his mentors voice.

"Yeah, sure thing Mr. Stark," he said, already limping down the corridor.

"Oh no, I take back the comment. You are wonderful and amazing, and I hereby grant you permission to call me Tony." Peter laughed, wincing when it hurt his ribs. He regretted making a sound when Tony heard it.

"Are you hurt? What happened?" His mentor pestered, and the boy sighed.

"Just hurt my leg and my ribs are a little bruised. I ran into some agents with alien tech." He turned a corner and pulled open a door, passing multiple unconscious—or dead, he didn't know—agents. Peter paused to lean against a wall, muttering a soft 'gross' when a sticky red substance coated his hand.

"Alien tech? This was supposed to be a simple mission."

"Yeah, um, they were HYDRA agents. I overheard them talking in Russian, and they said 'hail HYDRA,' so yeah," Peter said lamely. "Then they attacked me." He heard Tony groan.

"Why didn't you call for one of us? We could have helped," the billionaire reprimanded, sounding annoyed.

"I did, but the comms stopped working!" The boy continued limping, talking with his hands like Tony could actually see him.

"Yeah, whatever. Just get yourself back to the ship and I'll have Helen patch you up at the Compound. Then we can watch a movie or something."

Peter smiled. Tony was great.

"Popcorn, too?" The boy asked hopefully.  
The billionaire agreed, but only if Peter made it.

"That sounds great, Tony."

"Yes! Mark your calendars, folks, this is a day to remember! Not only did Peter help take down a HYDRA base, but he said my name twice!" 

Peter giggled, turning another corner and opening a door under a red 'exit' sign.

He continued to limp across the dry patchy ground, calling Tony's name when he saw him. Said man turned around, running away from the Quinjet that was stationed along the treeline of a seemingly endless forest. 

The billionaire wrapped his arms around the boy who reciprocated the hug, paying no mind to his bruised ribs. They stayed this way for almost a minute before Natasha came over to break them up.

"Okay, shows over. Get on the jet," she ordered sternly. The two let go of each other and walked to the ship that had begun to hum and whir, signaling that it was ready to take off.

"Here, let me carry you," Tony said after noticing Peter's limp. He lifted the protesting teen into a bridal carry, bringing him up the ramp and setting him into a seat.

Tony sat down beside Peter, his arm falling around the younger's shoulders. Peter's head rested against his mentor, and they both sat there contentedly. 

"We'll get you all fixed up when we get home," Tony promised, carding his hand through Peter's dark curls. Peter nodded, exhaustion settling in.

"That'd be nice." 

Tony chuckled and let out a relaxed sigh. Peter yawned.

"No falling asleep on my watch," the billionaire warned, but it was too late. Peter was already out cold. Soon, Tony was too.

And if Clint took a picture of them for blackmail, they wouldn't know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please comment any suggestions or constructive criticism you might have for me.
> 
> My brother keeps calling kudos 'kahoots'. So please please hit the 'kahoots' button.
> 
> I hope I can write this the way I want it to go, cause it's gonna be action packed if I do this right. Idk, I don't really brain well anymore.
> 
> I hope that google translate didn't fail me I don't know Russian (I wish I did tho)
> 
> "Where is the spider?"  
> "Где паук?"
> 
> "He was last seen in the west wing, but we lost connection with some of the cameras."  
> "В последний раз его видели в западном крыле, но мы потеряли связь с некоторыми камерами."
> 
> "Aha! We're back online, Sir."  
> "Ага! Мы снова в сети, сэр."
> 
> (Stranger things 3, anyone?)  
> \/  
> "Good job, Smirnoff. Hail HYDRA."  
> "Хорошая работа, Смирнофф. Славься, ГИДРА."
> 
> "Hail HYDRA."  
> "Славься, ГИДРА"


	2. Distrustful Capabilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Peter have a falling out. Not fun, is big oof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES, IT HAS BEEN A WHILE. My most sincere apologies, but I just kinda lost motivation, life got extra difficult, and I is the busy person. Whoops. I apologize if this chapter doesn't seem to match up with the first one, I wrote these like, idk, 1 1/2 weeks apart? Idk, it will get better tho. Hopefully.

"Please, I want to come with," Peter argued, leaning forward in his gurney. Tony shook his head, tired of this conversation. 

"Like I said, you are injured and unable to fight. Besides, this is not the kind of mission I want you to be at," Tony said, and Peter slumped back, looking away. The billionaire continued. 

"HYDRA is no joke, Pete. If they were to get their hands on you, who knows what kind of torture they'd put you through! I'm sure there are plenty of things they would like to find out about your powers."

"But they wouldn't catch me," Peter said, sounding a bit childish. Tony sighed exasperatedly.

"You can barely walk as it is," the man said, gesturing to the boy's wrapped foot and chest. "And you would fall over from one hit to the ribs."

Peter scoffed. "I've had worse. I've fought with worse! I could name multiple times that I've fought with worse: the one time when that mugger stabbed me at the beginning of patrol, when I fought four drug dealers with a broken leg, when a building fell on me—"

Tony startled, whipping his head to look at the boy. "When did a building fall on you?"

Peter winced. "Um, not relevant. What I'm trying to say is that I could handle this mission!"

The billionaire was getting angrier, and it showed. His fists were clenched, and a scowl deepened on his face. This kid would be the death of him.

"No, you can't."

"You don't know that!"

"Yes, I do know that," Tony said, holding up his hand when Peter started to protest. "Nope, the adult is talking. You're just a kid, you're not ready for big missions like this. Heck, you could hardly handle the Vulture, much less a working HYDRA base! You're not ready. Actually, I don't think you ever will be."

Peter looked down at his feet, avoiding Tony's eyes. For a second, Tony thought he might have taken it too far. No, Peter needed to hear that he wasn't invincible, that he couldn't handle everything.

"You aren't trained, you aren't prepared, and you don't listen. I can't have to babysit you the whole time just because you're injured and inexperienced. When we leave today, you are to stay in your room. That's final."

The billionaire sighed, standing up from the hospital chair and leaving the room. Once the door closed behind him, he slid to the floor, his back against the door and face in his hands.

He couldn't shake the feeling that he had made a horrible mistake.

* * * * *

Peter wanted to cry. But he didn't want to prove to Tony that he was a wimp, so he tried not to. 

He let out a rattling breath, looking out the window to his right as he wiped his eyes.

It's one thing to know you're not good enough. It's an entirely different thing to hear it from someone you've looked up to your entire life.

Laying his head on the medbay-issued pillow, Peter curled up into a ball, hugging his knees to his chest.

He couldn't help it. A sob left his lips, shaking his whole form as the sound rattled throughout his system.

It hurt to know that Tony didn't believe in him, that he thought Peter couldn't handle anything. 

It angered Peter to know that he had led himself into a false sense of security and trust, that he had thought Tony actually cared about him.

If the man would just let him come with, he could prove that he was ready, that he could handle a mission! Peter fought the Vulture after being crushed by a building without backup, he could handle a HYDRA base with the Avengers, the world's best defenders.

Of course, Tony didn't know all of his accomplishments, so Peter wouldn't be able to convince him to let him come. He'd have to disobey Tony.

Wiping the tears from his eyes angrily, Peter took a calming breath and sat up. Without hesitation, he leapt from the gurney and limped out the door.

Screw Tony and his opinions. 

* * * * *

Seeing Peter walk into the hangar fully suited up and 'ready to go' really set Tony off.

He muttered a small 'be right back' to the team and marched down the ramp to the limping boy. The billionaire grabbed Peter's shoulders and whipped him around, roughly leading him back the way he came.

"Hey, let go," Peter said, attempting to shrug Tony's hands off of him. Tony gripped harder.

"I told you to stay. I have my reasons, you can't just go around disobeying my every word." The boy scoffed and ripped away, staring at the man.

"Okay, first off I listen to you for the most part," he argued, ignoring Tony's eyeroll. "And secondly, your not my dad, so stop telling me what I can and can't handle."

The boy attempted to walk past Tony, but a metal-encased hand on his chest stopped him.

"You're not going. And if I have to lock you in your room, I will," Tony growled, looking dead serious. Peter glared and shoved Tony's hand off his chest, continuing to walk.

"FRIDAY, shutdown Mr. Parker's suit, please."

The boy stopped dead in his tracks, holding up his hands and checking his webshooters. When they did nothing, he grimaced, looking down.

"Turn it back on," Peter said quietly. Tony shook his head.

"No, I don't think I will."

Peter stomped his foot, turning around so fast he would've fallen over if he didn't start walking straight up to Tony to get in his face.

"Gosh dang it, Tony, turn my suit back on," he shouted, leaning up on his toes and pointing a finger at the billionaire's chest. Tony refused to let himself move, planting his feet on the ground and crossing his arms.

It hurt that Peter had finally called him 'Tony' without him asking, but only to yell at him.

"Get the Iron Legion, too, FRI," Tony commanded, watching as Peter took a step back, shock written on his face.

"Don't, no, please," he whispered, as Tony nodded and argued over him, reaching to grip the boy's thin arms before he could run off. "Let go, no, please! Just let me come with!"

The pounding of metal on concrete grew louder, clanging and echoing across the hangar. Peter stared in fear at the five suits of armor that marched nearer, and struggled harder in Tony's grip.

"You aren't ready, you're just a selfish little child that doesn't want to pass up the opportunity to try and doing something right for once in their life," Tony grunted, slipping his hands up further to grab the teen's biceps. Peter curled his arms closer, hurt shining in his watery eyes as stared at the man he thought had loved him.

"I just wanted to be a hero for once," Peter whispered, jolting as a suit took him from Tony's grasp. The billionaire stood and watched as the four other suits held on to a different part of the struggling teen, pulling him back inside.

"Put the Compound on lockdown. Don't let Peter out."

Peter continued to scream and kick, attempting to look back at his mentor.

"Don't lock me in! I want to go home, please, let me go home," he yelled, each word stabbing the billionaire in the chest. 

Was this not his home?

He waited to walk back to the Quinjet after Peter had disappeared inside, still screaming.

Tony's teammates stared at him as he went and sat down in the cockpit. No one said a word.

Tony glanced up at them.

"What are you waiting for? Get us up in the air."

They all turned back to some part of the ship, muttering to each other quietly. Tony didn't pay them any mind, resting his head in his hands.

This was a mistake.

* * * * *

Peter yelled and squirmed all the way to the holding center on the lower level. When the Iron Legion threw him into the room, he got right back up and pounded on the door, continuing to cry for someone to let him out.

No one came. Shocking.

Eventually, he crumpled on the ground in exhaustion, curling in on himself until his small form matched the width of the locked door behind him.

Peter didn't know what to feel. Upset? Guilty?

Betrayed?

Suddenly, he wished he hadn't tried to disobey Tony. The man probably hated him more than before.

Now Peter was still left behind, with security measures against him leaving, and a disapproving mentor to wait for. He wished Tony hadn't left him.

Then again, Peter was somewhat glad that he didn't get to be 'graced' by the man's presence. Peter didn't have to hang around with a person who obviously disliked him.

That thought shouldn't have hurt.

The teen hadn't even realized he was crying until he sniffed. He wiped his eyes aggravatedly.

Peter also didn't notice the shouting and thumping outside the holding room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You like? 
> 
> Idk, just comment anything. Please.


	3. *ANOUNCEMENT*

Hey guys! 

I just want to start with, I AM SO SORRYYYYYYYYYY!  
Honestly, life is just so stressful and complicated and school and work and other stuff, so free time has become nonexistent for me at the moment. I'm sorry to say that I probably won't be updating for awhile because I currently have 4 honors classes, 7 extracurriculars, and all of my family's birthdays are around this time of year (mine is October 3rd, yay!). Like I said: busy. 

Again, I profusely apologize so please don't hate meeee I'll be back as soon as I can. 

(I have a TON of storylines and titles if anyone is looking for some (jUsT aSk mE I wOnT bItE))

I'm so sorry, that is all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JUST TO BE CLEAR
> 
> Yes, I will be continuing this story, just NOT AT THE MOMENT
> 
> Do not fret, children.


	4. Gone Gone Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is LONGGGGGGG overdue, I am literally SO SORRY. I've been meaning to write an update, but I just jumped into this story with no plan on how to finish it, and the more I thought about, the more I realized how long this fic will probably be. I'm used to writing oneshots, not having to be responsible and work on the same fic for forever, but imma try. I considered orphaning this work, but I realized that was a horrible idea and that I should just do it. So here it finally is!!!!!! 
> 
> ~~~
> 
> Title from 'Gone Gone Gone' by Phillip Phillip's  
> (If you cant tell, I really like this song😅)

It was silent on the Quinjet. Tony was seated by himself. Usually, Peter was there to entertain every—no, no no no, Tony made him stay back, he was NOT regretting his decision. Not at all.

It was just that . . . well, maybe he had overreacted a little bit. It honestly wasn’t that bad of a mission, just a quick ‘get in, blow up, get out’ sort of thing. Not much danger should be involved, as long as the bombs didn’t go off before they all got out and there were no surprise agents lurking around. It was a simple mission.

Then again, this was HYDRA they were talking about. Anything and everything could go wrong, so precaution was necessary. And anyhow, Peter had mentioned briefly that one of the apparent HYDRA agents on the last mission knew his name, so there was that. Definitely not a good sign.

All things considered, Tony felt that making Peter stay home was completely necessary.

Despite the slight feeling that he’d made a horrible mistake.

Nah, it was fine. Hopefully.

Tony sighed deeply, resting his face in his hands and rubbing his eyes. Steve got up from his seat on the other side of the ship and sat next to him.

“Tony . . . I feel like that was a little uncalled for,” the supersoldier murmured, leaning forward and clasping his hands in his lap. “He could have come with, and you know we can always use the extra help. Even if it was something as little as keeping an eye out from the ship.”

“Yeah, well this is also HYDRA. As in the super secret bad guy boy band that tortures people like Peter,” Tony replied, gritting his teeth. “I don’t want the kid anywhere near that stuff.”

“And neither do I, or any of us,” Steve argued. “I guess I’m just trying to say that you overreacted. Sending the Iron Legion on him like that? He’s fifteen, Tony.”

“Yeah! And he can also stop a bus with his bare hands, Steve! He wasn’t listening, what was I supposed to do?” Tony exclaimed, throwing his hands up and falling back into his seat.

“Let him come with.”

“Yeah, like heck I’m doing that. I’ll just let HYDRA’s perfect little lab rat waltz into their base and let them keep him in a cage for the rest of his life. Sounds perfect, glad to know we have a game plan.”

Steve huffed a laugh and slowly rose to his feet. “Sure, whatever you say. I just wanted you to hear my opinion.”

“Well, pleasure sharing emotions with ya, Capsicle,” Tony scoffed, turning his head the other way. 

Steve retreated to the cockpit, calling over his shoulder, “You’re a good dad, Stark! You care about your kid.”

Tony didn’t respond. What was there to say? Deny it and say that he wasn’t a good father? Completely deny the obvious fact that he was actually pretty much a dad now? It hurt his head to think about.

Well, if he was a dad, he didn’t think he was all that great at it. He just yelled at his kid and used an army of metal people to lock him in a cell to keep him from coming with, if that had any say in it. Yeah, Tony was pretty sucky.

“Hey guys? I, uh, I think were here,” Clint called from the cockpit. Tony stood up and followed everyone down there to suspect the target.

“Why do you say that like you’re not so sure?” Natasha asked, looking out the window.

“Well, as you can see, the base is evidently empty,” Rhodey sassed from the front of the group. “Therefore meaning that the coordinates were crappy and we don’t need to blow up a HYDRA base.”

Tony fought his way to the front of the group, letting the nanotech of his suit gather, forming the armor around his body. “‘Crappy coordinates?’ What the heck does that mean?”

“Well, if you listened, you’d know that James just explained that we received a false mission,’ Wanda said from the back.

“Well, yeah, I understand that, but I just don’t understand why,” Tony replied, still staring out the window. The compound located at the bottom of the snowy valley was obviously abandoned, looking like nothing more than old ruins. There was no way that anyone could still be there, considering there was almost nothing other than the foundation of the building.

But why were they sent there? SHIELD wouldn’t have sent them if they knew the base was a bogey, so there had to be some other reason. Maybe HYDRA still had someone in the ruins that was sending out telecommunication? Unlikely. They could have sent out a false signal, making SHIELD think that there were still agents working there, but they wouldn’t do that unless they were trying to—

Crap.

“FRI, what’s the Compound’s status?” Tony asked urgently, interrupting everyone else’s argument. They all stared at him sharply.

“I am not currently receiving any reports from the Avengers Compound,” the AI replied monotonously, not seeming to understand the direness of what she’d just said.

“Tony, what are you doing?” Steve asked.

Tony shushed him and tried again. “FRIDAY, has anyone attempted to hack into the building’s mainframe within the past hour?”

They all waited in suspense for her response.

“Yes,” FRIDAY answered eventually.

Well frick.

* * * * *

Peter flinched when the cell door opened. He nearly fell from his ‘hiding spot’ in the back right corner of the ceiling. He didn’t turn around.

“If you’ve come to apologize, I don’t care,” he called over his shoulder, continuing to fiddle with his useless web shooters like he’d been doing for the past thirty minutes or so. Peter only half meant what he’d said; he didn’t want to talk to Tony at the moment.

Something sharp slammed into Peter’s back, and his whole body seized, causing him to drop to the floor with a scream. He groaned as the electricity wore off, his whole body stiff and achy from the fall.

“Well I knew you hated me, but not that . . . much . . .” Peter trailed off, lifting his gaze to the black kevlar and gun-clad men that swarmed the cell. “Oh. You’re not Tony.”

The front two men surged forward, their tasers blazing. Peter’s spider-sense prickled, and he immediately leapt to the ceiling, narrowly dodging the weapons aimed at him. The rest of the men didn’t hesitate, aiming their guns and extending their tasers towards him. Peter reached down and grabbed two guys’ heads and bashed them together, then jumped to the left wall and launched himself at the other men fumbling to grab him. They all bowled over like dominos, and Peter cackled, landing on the ground in his signature crouch.

“Hasta la vista, baby!” he screeched, running out the open door and turning at the end of the hall. He stopped short in front of an even larger group of men. They were all wearing the same gear and angry faces as the other people Peter had knocked out in the cell.

“Oh hey, guys. You looking for a map? I think there’s one down the hall to the right,” Peter chuckled nervously, not liking that every single gun was currently aimed at his chest. He raised his hands and slowly backed up, watching warily as the soldiers moved closer with every step. Peter could already hear the footsteps of the guys he’d ditched in the cell behind him.

“Now, uh, there’s no n-need to be hasty. Let’s just talk this through,” the boy winced, stopping when a large hand gripped his shoulder and the barrel of a gun dug into the back of his head. Peter knew there was no getting out of this now.

A man with a salt-and-pepper buzzcut and scar over his right eye stepped forward, followed by a shorter woman in a white lab coat with frizzy black hair and glasses. The crowd of soldiers parted for them. The man gestured with his finger, and the soldier gripping Peter pushed him forward roughly, still holding the gun to his head. The man pulled Peter’s chin up with his icy hand, digging his fingers into the soft flesh hard enough to bruise.

“Hmm, yes, this’ll do,” he murmured, tilting the boy’s head from side to side. He made no move to escape, still frozen in place with the fear of being shot in the head. Just that thought brought back too many bad memories.

After a few moments of the strange man inspecting him in silence, he spoke, “Take him.”

The man behind Peter grabbed the boy’s head and tilted it to the side, moved the gun to his temple. The woman in the lab coat walked forward with a sadistic smile, drawing a syringe from her front pocket. Peter panicked.

“Wait wait wait, don’t do this,” he cried, pushing to get away from the woman.. She placed a hand on his neck, pushing in the needle with precision. Peter cried out and jerked away, but the damage was already done. Whatever was in the syringe was already in his system. He could feel his strength quickly dwindling.

“No, no, no,” Peter whimpered, sinking to the floor with drowsiness, still fighting back feebly. He’s knees hit the floor, and the other men swarmed him. They grabbed his arms and legs, shackling them in metal cuffs, then someone picked Peter and lugged him over their shoulder like he was weightless.

He continued to protest weakly, even as his view of the floor below him began to black out. The sounds of insane laughter and marching feet were drowned out by the incessant ringing in Peter’s ears. He submitted to sleep, swaying gently to the rhythm of his captor walking through the halls. 

He couldn’t help but think that Tony should have let him come with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was that? Lmk what you wanna see next, and I'll try to add it in 😊
> 
> So imma try to write more of this during coronacation bc I actually have the time now and no excuses. Let's do it.
> 
> (PLEASE SEND UR PROMPTS. I HAVE PLENTY BUT I WANNA HEAR YOUR GUYS')


	5. Turning Tables

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, WOOO! I AM ON A ROLL🤘🤘 I hope you guys like this chapter, it starts to get jUcIeRrRrrrrr!!!!!!

Tony whipped around and bolted to the control panel, taking Barton’s seat that he’d abandoned to argue with the others, and immediately inputted coordinates for the Avengers Compound. The Quinjet roared to life and took off, everyone else in the cockpit falling to the floor with the ship’s momentum.

“Tony, what's going on?” Steve screeched from where he had fallen onto Natasha. She shoved him away with a grunt and leapt to the floor in a battle stance.

“It was a trap. A distraction. HYDRA’s gonna attack the Compound, they probably already have,” Tony grinded out, standing up and clutching his hair tightly. “I’m such an idiot, I shouldn’t have made the kid stay.”

“Oh crap,” Clint laughed, getting to his feet haphazardly. “You really screwed up—hey!” Nat wacked him in the arm, an obvious sign that he needed to shut up. Tony ignored the comment. This day really couldn’t get any worse.

“Boss, we will arrive in approximately twenty minutes,” FRIDAY notified. Tony nodded and clapped his hands together.

“Okay! So what we know—or what I’ve assumed, and I’m usually right—is that HYDRA has or will infiltrate the Compound, so we need to be ready,” the billionaire commanded. “Pull your crap together and be ready for a battle, we don’t know exactly what to expect. I don’t have any access to the Compound’s mainframe as of right now, so we could be walking in on nothing or a full-on war. Or, worst case scenario, they’re already gone and they took the kid. Let’s hope it hasn’t gotten to that yet.”

After he was done giving orders, everyone scattered to gather their weapons and practice their combat skills. Tony himself remained in the captain’s chair, doing absolutely nothing to prepare like the hypocrite he was. The jet was on autopilot, so he had the time to sit and think.

Twenty minutes passed with alarming speed, and soon Wanda was there, letting him know that they were about to go. He stood with a groan, following everyone else to the bay doors. They stood battle-ready as the ramp opened with alarming speed. 

It was . . . surprising, to say the least. Not a single agent was swarmed around the Quinjet, ready to take aim and fight the Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. So now they could either expect the best or the worst; HYDRA never came, or Peter was already gone. Tony really hoped it was the former.

The rest of the Avengers advanced through the hangar doors and walked through the Compound’s halls at a very slow pace, as if waiting for someone to jump around the corner and try to kill them. Tony was having none of it, so after a couple excruciating minutes of trailing behind the wary group, he fought his way to the front and blasted off down the corridors. He ignored the angry shouts echoing in his wake.

When the billionaire finally reached the lower levels, he wanted to pinch himself and say that it was all a bad dream. The whole level was a mess, obviously having been ransacked and pillaged. Tony almost didn’t want to go check the holding cell, fearing what he already knew to be true.

“No, no, no, no,” he muttered as he walked down the hall. He hesitated before turning the corner. The cell door was wide open, and Tony could already see the signs of a struggle. Scuff marks were littering the pristine floor, along with spatters of blood. Tony crept into the cell, and immediately noted the larger blood smears on nearly every surface. Peter was nowhere to be seen.

“No,” Tony whimpered, letting his helmet recede into his neck so he could see the damage for himself. He raised a metal-encased hand to his face, walking slowly to the center of the room and taking a full turn. A loud sob escaped his lips, and he forced his other hand to his face.

Peter was gone. Peter was taken, and it was all Tony’s fault. The kid had said that he wanted to come with, and he’d always had good instincts. Well, other than his horrible self-preservation skills when it came to others possibly being in danger. But Peter would never have let any of them go on the mission if he’d so much as doubted their safety once. Then Tony, being the absolute jerk that he was, forced the kid to stay, locked him up even, in hopes of keeping him safe. But now the tables were turned.

“Frick,” Tony whispered wetly, still frozen in the center of the cell. He didn’t even flinch when everyone else came running.

“Tony, did you—oh, crap,” Rhodey said as he approached Tony, grabbing his arm and turning him around. He inspected the billionaire’s face, with his red ears and watering eyes, how he was biting his lip the way he did when he was going to cry. “Tones, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.” The billionaire ducked his head, staring at his feet. He tried his hardest not to cry, but it hurt his throat to keep it in. He sobbed again.

“Woah,” someone said, and Tony looked over Rhodey’s shoulder to see Clint, Nat, Wanda, Vision, and Steve all looking at the walls. “That’s a lot of blood,” the person, Clint, said.

“Thanks, Captain Obvious. Your observation was greatly required,” Rhodey sighed, cranking his neck to glare at the archer.

“Wait, I thought that was me,” Steve complained from the other corner of the room.

“Shut up, Rogers,” Nat deadpanned, wiping her finger along one of the blood streaks. “Horrible timing.” She gestured to Tony, who was sniffing and digging his palms into his eyes. He glared at her, and she looked away with a shrug.

“Tony, perhaps you should ask FRIDAY what happened, maybe help piece together whose blood this actually is,” Vision suggested. The Avengers all muttered in agreement.

“Yeah, um, right. FRI, give us what you got,” Tony croaked, crossing his arms and trying to make his stance a little more confident.

“Boss, I managed to gain video access to every moment that was lost when my mainframe was hacked,” the AI announced stately. “Where would you like me to begin from?”

“Right as we left, please. Thanks, baby girl,” Tony replied.

A hologram appeared near the door, showing Peter being carried through the hangar doors, the Quinjet visibly preparing to take off in the background. The video feeds cut as the group travelled throughout the Compound, Peter kicking and screaming the whole way. Tony winced.

The Avengers all watched as Peter was brought to the holding cell—FRIDAY skipping the moments where nothing happened—where he was inevitably attacked and taken. It was difficult to watch.

When the footage ended, everyone released a collective breath, maintaining the silence.

“Okay, so now we know whose blood this is,” Clint announced, raising his hand. Everyone glared at him. “Right, sorry. Horrible timing, I know,” he muttered, lowering his hand.

“I’m gonna go,” Wanda murmured, her Sokovian accent slipping in. She sped out the door, Vision hot on her tail. Natasha left without a word, most likely going to comfort her with Vision. Now it was just Tony, Steve, Clint, and Rhodey. 

“You know what, I just, um . . . yeah, I’ll leave now,” Clint stammered, making the wise choice to make an exit.

Tony sighed. What amazing friends he had. They were supposed to be comforting him or something, for God’s sake. He’d just made the worst mistake of his life, and now his kid was missing. Everything that could go wrong was going wrong.

Tony hoped Peter would at least know that he was going to try to fix this.

“I told you that Peter should have come,” Steve said, breaking the silence. “This could’ve been avoided.”

“Yeah, well it’s a little late for that, Spangles,” Tony scoffed. “Why don’t you just leave like everybody else? At least they didn’t try to make me feel worse than I already do.”

Steve sniffed, and left the cell as Tony had asked. It didn’t make him feel any better. He wiped a hand down his face, heaving a breath and blowing out harshly. Rhodey’s hand made its way to his shoulder.

“Tones, it’s not entirely your fault, y’know,” he comforted. “You had no way of knowing that it was a trap, you were just trying to look out for your kid.”

“Sure, tell that to everyone else, while you’re at it.”

Rhodey didn’t answer, opting to leave like everyone else. 

Tony didn’t know why he always scared people away. Fate just seemed to think that he deserved to be lonely.

He sat down and stared at the wall.

* * * * *

Peter groaned as he came to consciousness, rubbing his face with one hand as he used the other to lethargically sit himself up. His whole body was stiff, the area where he’d been tased tingling weirdly. Peter yawned widely, then stopped short when he noticed his surroundings.

The room Peter was in was very bland, with no furniture, plain cement walls, and a simple metal door with no handle on the far wall. There was a large frame of one way glass right next to the door, which inevitably meant that someone was watching him.

Peter slumped back into the corner of the wall from where he was sitting on the cold, hard ground. His neck hit the wall with a clang, making him jump. Peter hesitantly reached his fingers to his neck, flinching when he felt a clunky metal band where soft skin should be. Feeling all the way around his neck, he confirmed that there was no apparent way to take it off. 

“Noooo,” Peter groaned loudly, clutching his hair. “I have a dog collar?!”

“Oh, it’s much more than a simple dog collar,” the man with the buzzcut said in a thick accent, walking through the now open door. “It has a few tricks up its sleeve, as I’m sure you’ll soon find out.”

Peter leapt to his feet in surprise, fumbling to get into his battle stance. His mind vaguely processed that he was no longer wearing his suit, but a hospital gown. He was silently disgusted, yet thankful that it tied at the sides.

“I’m sorry, where are my manners?” the man chuckled falsely. “My name is Aurick Kepler. You will address me as ‘sir’ or simply ‘Kepler.’ Whichever you prefer.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed, and he nodded his head slightly. Other than that, he didn’t move.

Kepler’s gaze darkened in a split second. “I expect you to respond verbally when I talk to you.”

The kid gulped, then nodded again before remembering to say, “Yes, sir.”

Instantly, Kepler’s face returned to its passive state. “Ah, there we are. I think we’ll get along just fine then.”

Peter didn’t think that would happen. Kepler seemed like the type of guy that could order a genocide just by looking at someone a certain way. Definitely not the kind of person Peter wanted to befriend.

“Now, I believe we have work to do, so if you’ll just come with me,” Kepler said casually, and guards started gathering into the cell. Some marched forward and grabbed Peter’s arms, ignoring his protests, and the others aimed their tasers at him. Not that he could really fight back. “Good, let’s be on our way now.”

The man walked out the door, and the soldiers immediately pulled Peter with. 

“Hey, watch the merchandise!” he shouted, attempting to tug his arms from the soldiers’ grips. 

“Very witty, I see,” Kepler called over his shoulder. “You might notice that you ‘dog collar’ is preventing you from using your strength. I’d save it, there’s no way you’ll be strong enough to escape.”

Peter’s jaw dropped, and he allowed himself to be dragged after the man. He didn’t know that there was tech that could limit powers, much less the HYDRA had any. This whole situation wasn’t seeming to get any better.

Eventually, they came to a stop in what seemed to be some sort of operation room. There was a metal slab—probably serving as a table—in the center, with four matching cuffs dangling from each corner. On the left wall, there was another smaller table, filled with different tools and blades, each one worse than the next. Peter shivered.

“Ah, Peter, I’d like you to meet Dr. Annika Vera,” Kepler introduced, gesturing to the short, frizzy-haired woman in the lab coat that had knocked him out earlier. Dr. Vera waved at him with a smile, and Peter just stared at her suspiciously. “She will be the head of all our experiments.”

“I’m sorry, e-experiments,” Peter stammered, eyes widening with shock.

“Yes, and you will be our test subject,” Kepler grinned sadistically.

The guards pulled him forward, grabbing his legs and dropping him on the table. Peter squirmed vigorously, but the band around his neck released an electric surge, and he fell limp with a scream. The men placed the cuffs around his wrists and ankles before he’d finished spasming.

“You guys are sick,” Peter slurred, tilting his head to the side. Kepler bent over so their faces were parallel, and he put a finger to his lips, shushing Peter quietly. He turned and left the operation room, most of the soldiers close in pursuit. Now it was just Peter, two guards, and Dr. Vera.

Two feminine hands grasped the sides of Peter’s face, turning his gaze to the ceiling. Dr. Vera smiled at him from above.

“Let’s see what makes you tick,” she murmured, shoving a rubber wedge into his mouth. Peter’s breath quickened, heart thumping so loudly he thought it would bound out of his chest. 

The doctor stuck multiple patches to his temple and under the hospital gown, making the boy shiver. When she finished, she walked out of his sight.

“Now Peter, this will only hurt a little bit,” she called. Peter heard the flip of a switch.

He screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? 
> 
> For those of you who have been dying for updates, I apologize. I will try to be better 😊
> 
> Edit 3/28/20  
> Okay, so it turns out that chapters 4 and 5 were mixed up, so i changed the order and it's normal now 👍


	6. Under The Skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. Sorry, this is late omg. I aM sO bAd aT bEiNg cOnSiStEnT, I nEeD dEaDlInEs sO I cAn gEt tHiNgS dOnE iN a TiMeLy mAnNeR. But anyhoo, here are my excuses for being late:  
> \- My parents started w/ house projects (which suckssss)  
> \- I got hit in the head w/ a giant metal pole last week  
> \- I fell off a longboard and down a hill  
> \- I somehow sprained my wrist a few days ago  
> \- Also, spring break is goneeeeeee arghhhhhhh
> 
> Okay, so all that sucks, but on the bright side! I created a 'business's email so you guys can contact me at mouthbreatherbusiness@gmail.com w/ prompts, questions, or literally just anything, so yay! Enjoy this chapter!

Click. Click. Click.

Clickclickclickclickclick—

“Sir, even though I’m just a program and therefore have no emotions, you are beginning to annoy me,” FRIDAY complained.

Tony threw his pen down on his desk and leaned back in his chair, head in his hands. 

“I really don’t care, FRI,” came his muffled reply. And he didn’t. Tony didn’t have time to care about angsty AIs, it had been two weeks since Peter was taken and there hadn’t been a single breakthrough. Tony had tried literally everything he could think of to track him down, but everything had come up dry.

Facial recognition had been a bust. Every person on the security cams had either a mask, or weren’t in any databases. Then Tony had tried analyzing the blood they’d found in Peter’s cell, but apparently every match that came up had been dead for twenty years or more. 

Then he thought ‘Oh, what about CCTV? Surely I could track their vehicles?’ That was a deadend, because every camera in the city just so happened to be rebooting at the exact time Peter was taken, so there were no cars or trails of blacked-out cameras to follow. Just peachy.

Probably the only good news was that they most likely hadn’t left the country. And Tony only suspected that because he couldn’t find any unusual or unplanned flights out of the country. But that didn’t narrow down the searching field. For all Tony knew, they could be right under his feet and he’d be all the way in Seattle trying to dig up an entire city just to find some imaginary HYDRA base.

“Ughh, FRIDAY, why does nothing work?” Tony groaned, rubbing his hands down his face and pulling at his cheeks.

“Are you sure you tried everything?” came a response that definitely was not FRIDAY. Tony whirled around in his chair, and there was Rhodey, arms crossed and metal braces whirring softly as he came forward.

“Who let you in? Certainly not me, I would know if I decided to let you come in and I definitely did not,” Tony said, immediately hardening his features. No one was allowed to see him crack. “FRI, did you let him in? Yeah, I think it was you, traitor,” he said before the colonel could respond.

“I would never, Sir. It must have been your other all-powerful AI, such treason has never been inputted in my code,” the AI said innocently. Tony sighed.

“I swear this happens with every one of my creations,” Tony complained to Rhodey, gesturing halfheartedly. “They all inevitably turn on me. And apparently FRIDAY is no exception.”

Rhodey chuckled, pulling up a nearby stool—Tony tried not to think about how Peter usually sat there—and sitting on it with a groan. Tony sighed again, crossing his arms and bouncing back and forth in his chair.

“Now, as worrying as your traitorous creations are, you never answered my question,” Rhodey said accusingly. Tony ignored him, picking up his pen again and clicking it incessantly. He stared at the colonel and said, “Did you know that people who find the sounds of pen clicking unbearable have a genuine brain abnormality? It’s called misophonia, and it’s actually quite common—”

“Tony, you can’t just beat around the bush with other people,” Rhodey interrupted. “It’s okay to talk about what happened.”

“What happened? I don’t know what you’re talking about, everything’s perfectly fine. I’m fine you’re fine, I hope you’re fine,” Tony said, feigning confusion. Rhodey glared at him, unimpressed. “Okay, okay, I’ll talk. Just don’t hurt me, officer,” he tried to joke, but it fell short.

“You know you don’t have to do this alone, right?” Rhodey said.

Tony breathed heavily, “Yeah, I know. That’s why Cap and the others are out there searching random bases.” It was true, they’d gone through at least ten different buildings and busted multiple groups, but Peter wasn’t anywhere to be found.

“No, I mean we can help you with the research, many hands make light work and all that crap,” Rhodey said exasperatedly. “We might not all be tech geniuses, but I’m sure there’s some way we could help. You just need to let us in.”

“Into my lab? Haha, no way, good luck with that,” Tony laughed.

“Please Tony, just try to work with me here,” Rhodey complained. “Look, okay, maybe we won’t help you with the techy stuff, but if you just need someone to talk to or express your feelings—”

“Like a therapist? Are you offering to provide me mental advice and carry my emotional burden? I’m not sure you’re strong enough, honeybear.”

“Okay, yeah, like a therapist,” Rhodey admitted. “Sam was one once, he could help you. Steve fought in a war, I’m sure he has plenty of experience helping others with stuff like that. But if you don’t want to do the whole ‘friend therapy’ thing, you never know when someone could actually offer good advice.”

Tony scoffed, “Yeah, um, I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m doing just fine on my own.”

“See, that’s the thing, Tones,” Rhodey replied, and Tony could see he was getting a little worked up. “I don’t notice, because you’ve kept yourself so cut off from everyone else—including me and Pepper—that we don’t even know if you’re still alive in here.”

“Rhodey-bear, we’ve been through this before,” Tony said mockingly. “My heart is black and my soul is dead, I haven’t been alive in years.”

“That’s not true and you know it. Maybe it was at some point—metaphorically, of course—but then that kid, your kid, showed up,” Rhodey said passionately. “And ever since then, you’ve been a better person. And right now, he’s counting on you to save him, but you can’t do that without help, because flying solo currently isn’t working.”

Tony shook his head, “How do you know that he’s counting on me? I caused this in the first place, didn’t I?”

“You were protecting him, Tones,” Rhodey said quietly. “Please just let us in, let us help you get your kid back.”

Tony scoffed, “Aww, I didn’t know you guys cared, considering pretty much everyone blamed me for this two weeks ago—”

“Gosh dangit, Tony!” Rhodey yelled. “Can’t I just get one straight answer from you?! One!”

“But sarcasm is in my blood,” Tony interrupted. “I can feel it in my code.”

“Now is not the time for references. Look, I understand that you’re grieving, I understand that you’re guilty, but I'm just trying to help, and you won’t even try.” 

“Hey, I’m trying! I’m talking to you, isn’t that a start?”

“No wonder we haven’t gotten anywhere,” Rhodey continued, ignoring Tony. “You can’t even properly communicate with anyone. If you cared at all about getting Peter back, you’d try to work as a team for once.”

Tony was angry. No one, in their right mind, should ever claim he didn’t care for his kid. Rhodey was on his feet, breathing hard and face portraying a growing disgust.

“Rhodes, you know I care about Pete—”

“But do you? Didn’t you say that you were the one who made him stay in the first place?”

Tony closed his mouth, lips tightening, “Low blow. That’s really low, Rhodes.”

“You know what? I’m done,” Rhodey said, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m done putting up with your crap. The others can stop sending me to cheer you up, it’s not working. I’ll help find Peter, ‘cause God knows he needs more help than just you, but they can send someone else to you every day.” And with that, he turned and left. Like everyone else in Tony’s life, he walked out the door without so much as a glance.

“Hey, close the door on your way out!” Tony yelled. He didn’t know why he said that, it didn’t make anything better. He just had to have the last word.

It was inevitable, Tony figured, that Rhodey would eventually leave him. They’d been friends for years, and it was a wonder they’d lasted this long. But just because Tony expected didn’t mean that it hurt any less. 

Tony blew out an angry breath, “FRI, order me a Scotch please. Double time.”

“Sir, haven’t you stayed sober while Peter—”

“Peter’s not here, FRIDAY,” Tony interrupted. “He’s not here.”

“But when he returns, he won’t be happy to see you drinking again, Sir,” the AI replied, sounding a little worried.

When he returned. When Peter came back. Not if, when.

“He’s not coming back, FRI,” Tony choked, resting his elbow on the desktop and his head in his hand. “He’s not coming.”

The AI didn’t reply to that. Maybe she knew it was true, that Peter wouldn’t be back. Tony didn’t even know if he would want to come back, considering he was the cause of all this. Even Rhodey believed that now.

“Placing an order right away, Sir.”

* * * * *

Peter was thrown to the floor with a yelp, his skin smacking painfully on the cold cement. A swift kick to the stomach followed.

“Oww, again with the steel-toe, jeez,” Peter wheezed, hugging his middle and curling up on the floor. “I told you, Uggs are so much better. Definitely less painful to the gut.”

He was ignored yet again, and the guards left the room, metal door slamming behind him. Peter felt all the tension leave his shoulders. He might still be in danger, but at least he was alone now.

Peter painfully dragged himself to his preferred corner, then curled up his knees and cradled his wrists. They’d taken out the web shooter implants from one of last week’s experiments, apparently concluding that they were pointless. ‘And the wounds had just closed up, too,’ Peter thought bitterly.

Gently, he used his thumbs to smear the blood away from the open cuts, hissing when it tugged at the skin. Peter used his already blood-soaked shirt to staunch the bleeding, but opting to leave it on still. It was pretty much the only thing that offered warmth in this godforsaken place.

Peter wished Tony wouldn’t have made him stay at the Compound that day. This all could have been avoided if he’d just gone along.

Tony probably wasn’t even coming, considering the last conversation they’d had was a fight.

Peter sat and waited patiently, knowing that a nurse would come in with the next meal soon. At least that’s what would normally happen, but Peter knew today was a little tricky, so the odds of them actually feeding him were slim.

The most prominent rule he’d learned was that if he talked back, or he misbehaved, or he did anything to upset his ‘superiors,’ he’d lose a privilege. Such as the luxury of food. That was the only consequence he’d had so far, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think that was the only one. There were bound to be worse punishments.

But at this point, Peter only cared whether he got under their skin or not. He had a reputation to uphold, gotta keep the people entertained.

The door to the cell was opened again, and Peter was almost glad, but when the nurse walked in he noticed she only had an IV drip. She was quick to bring it over to him, and the door closed behind her. The taser at her side didn’t go unnoticed.

Peter stared at her warily as she prepped the unusually large needle, but when she brought it near him, he flinched away, wincing when his head hit the wall.

“I will not tolerate misbehavior,” she said in her usual foreign accent—Peter had given up trying to tell where she was from. The nurse reached for his arm when he didn’t move and had to tug it from his grip, but he made no other attempt to resist.

Peter winced when the needle slid under the soft flesh of his forearm, and the nurse made her way back to the cart she’d brought with her. She came back with some medical tape, and stuck it over the needle’s insertion point. Now it was even more uncomfortable, but when Peter reached to itch it, the nurse slapped his hand away with a scowl.

“Do not take it out!” she scolded.

“What’s this for, anyway?” Peter asked, ignoring her reprimand. His stomach growled embarrassingly loud.

“It does not matter,” she said, almost unintelligible with her accent. “But you better get used to it. This will provide you nutrience to prevent you from dying of starvation and malnutrition.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He received a surprisingly strong slap to the face, making him nearly fall over and rip the IV from his arm.

“Do not ask questions!” she said, ripping the IV out harder than she probably should have. Peter hissed and clutched his arm. “We are done here.”

“Touchy much? Jeez,” Peter complained. “I’m giving this place a one star review, your hospitality sucks.”

The nurse ignored him—he was finding that most people here did that—and left the room, leaving Peter to his own devices. Peter sighed loudly. 

He pulled himself up and crawled along the wall, coming to a stop in the corner above where he’d been sitting. Kepler might have taken his strength, but at least Peter still had his stickiness. He liked to sleep up on the ceiling because it made him feel at least a little comfort, and like he was out of reach of his captors. 

He knew they’d come in the morning and electrocute him until he fell, but Peter felt it was worth the sacrifice if it would help him sleep.

Peter curled up into a ball, back facing the door, and let the silent tears fall. It was a little amusing how they seemed to fall upwards, but it did little to improve how he felt. Petr tried to let out his fear at night so he could hide it the next morning. He had to be strong.

Peter was going to escape. He couldn’t just give up, not when his aunt was still out there.

He’d be strong so he could escape. Not for him, not for Tony.

For May.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You like? You no like? Lmk what you think 😁
> 
> Dont forget you can contact me at mouthbreatherbusiness@gmail.com


	7. Cacophony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, yep it's been awhile. Classical me. Please lmk if the formatting's weird, my software sucks.
> 
> Fyi, I did not edit this so it is crippity crap and I cant bring myself to care

“Get up, Spider. We’re doing something new today.”

The threat of a taser below soon became a problem, jabbing into Peter’s side and causing him to seize up. He promptly dropped to the ground, still unable to control his twitching limbs.

This morning routine was now familiar to Peter. He doubted it would change much if he decided to sleep on the floor instead, so Peter remained stubborn in his small comfort of being out of reach.

“Get to your feet,” Kepler commanded, his scrutinous gray eyes boring into Peter’s skin like a hot branding iron. He stood imperiously, leaning back slightly with his hands clasped behind him. Aurick Kepler was a curious man. Peter would love to say that he despised his guts, but in all honesty, the man might once have been respectable. His manners were always on point—much to Peter’s distaste—and he kept a good mind about things. Kepler’s one flaw was his absolute mistreatment of enhanced people.

After the next jab of a taser, Peter finally got to his aching feet, trying to ignore the tendrils of pain from yesterday’s “lab time,” as Kepler so helpfully put it. Peter swore he was going to have nightmares if he ever had to see another treadmill again.

“Goodmorning, Your Majesty,” Peter drawled slowly, allowing his arms to be gripped painfully by the guards who’d woken him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Kepler simply smiled grimly in his usual fashion, then led the way out into the damp, dark hall. 

“We are going to take a little test of the mind today, Mr. Parker,” the man said over his shoulder. Peter hated the way he strutted about, like he owned everyone and everything. It was somewhat reminiscent of a peacock, but Peter would much prefer one of them to the monstrosity that was Kepler. “I hear you’re very smart.”

“Yeah, says who?” Peter mumbled to the floor, too tired to let his head do more than hang. He counted the number of divots in the cement floor, keeping note of them in his mind. Kepler said nothing.

Peter was at the nineteenth crack in the cement, expecting to count the next twenty-two down the hall, when they took a sudden turn. Apparently, they were not going to the lab today. Peter lifted his head to calculate his surroundings, but nothing was any different. The same drab walls, ceiling, floor. A few doors, each guarded by someone in kevlar. No windows, just a lightbulb every few feet.

“During your few weeks in our care, we’ve taken note of some of your tendencies,” Kepler said, opening a door and leading the way in again. The room was very dark, lit by one light over yet another creepy chair. It felt like they were in an operating room at a hospital. 

“We will only be fixing one of them today,” the man said, as Peter was harshly strapped in the chair under the light. Fixing? How does one fix a natural tendency? “Others would try neuroplasticity, which is a more natural way of ridding bad habits, but we have something much quicker,” he continued, coming to a stop on the far side of the room. He was staring that stare again.

“I’m sorry, I am so tired right now,” Peter sighed, squinting up at the light above him. “I can’t understand your verbal cues or whatever, what are you trying to say, Kepler?”

Oh, the glare was worse, the glare was worse. Abort mission, this was not okay. Peter tried his best to glare back, but he could tell that it wasn’t really working. Tony always said he looked like a kicked puppy when he was mad, so that thought didn’t help.

“Today, we will be altering your mind,” Kepler said after an angry pause. His gray eyes had turned from that dark sense of brooding to a new shade, more excited and sadistic. Peter couldn’t exactly say he was scared of the apparent “mind altering,” but the look in Kepler’s eyes made it all the more worse.

“Cool beans, salt n’ pepper,” Peter grinned, despite that slight fear and the cold clamps over his limbs and torso. He had to keep up this act, he needed to make Kepler mad. Why, he didn’t know. Maybe it’s just because that’s what Tony would do.

Didn’t Tony get you into this mess?, a nagging voice said. Don’t be like him, he left you behind.

No, Tony’s my mentor, I shouldn’t be blaming him for this, Peter argued back. He was protecting me. 

It was funny that Peter was trying to convince his own mind.

Dr. Vera was back again. Her big, bushy hair fell into Peter’s face when she leaned over him to place what seemed to be a pair of glasses on his face. They were thick, with clear frames that revealed a multitude of wires behind the plastic. Peter did his best to see where they led to, but testing his peripheral vision was starting to make his head hurt.

“As always, we want you to know that this procedure might make you a little uncomfortable,” Kepler called to Peter. By now, these little “heads ups” were annoying. It was the same every time, always just a subtle warning that “oh yeah, this is going to hurt, hope you don’t mind.” Peter rolled his eyes as Kepler continued with the niceties. “This is to be expected, so please don’t be alarmed. Dr. Vera, if you please.”

With a curt nod and a confirmation from the doctor, Kepler made his way to a door other than the one they’d come through, and took a seat behind the glass stationed to its left. The light above Peter flickered, then turned off. Something began whirring.

Peter could hear Dr. Vera mumbling unintelligibly behind him, and his chair abruptly began to move. Slowly, he was turned to the side, facing a blank wall. Headphones were placed on his head, securely clamping over his ears, and a blue light flashed from the lenses of his see-through glasses, nearly blinding him.

The light of a projector beamed down on the wall before Peter, the same blue as his glasses, then immediately turned into a horrible clash of assaulting colors and patterns, shocking the kid back into his seat. Loud, unorthodox noises blasted through the headphones, eliciting a scream from Peter. A harsh combination of lavender and peppermint burned his nose, making his eyes water, and it took Peter a little bit to realize that his chair was vibrating, too.

It was like all his senses were being attacked at once, forcing him into sensory overload. Peter could already feel a migrained coming on as everything seemed to become more bright, more loud, more horrible with every passing second.

Peter couldn’t even hear himself thinking. He vaguely remembered that he was supposed to have control over his body, and tried to close his eyes to block out the light, but it was like he was frozen. If he was still screaming, he couldn’t tell.

Then just like that, it was gone. The patterns, the noise, the vibrations, everything. Peter was left shaking and sobbing in the chair, tears blurring the room. His mind could barely process the voice of Kepler, talking to him through the headphones.

“Peter, want you to repeat after me, okay?” his voice crackled, so much quieter than the noises from before. “Just repeat after me and this will all stop, okay Pete?”

“Don’t call me Pete,” Peter breathed raggedly, half hoping Kepler didn’t hear that, but also wanting him to. But if he did, he showed no sign.

“I need you to admit that this was Tony’s fault,” the man said. Peter shook his head, despite the growing migraine forming at the base of his skull. He could barely see beyond the phantom flashes of light that had just plagued his vision.

“Pete, you must understand that none of this would have happened if it weren’t for Tony,” Kepler continued to say through the headphones. 

“‘M not Pete,” the kid said, squeezing his eyes shut to fight the nausea. “Not to you.”

Kepler sighed, then said to someone else, “Hit him again.”

At once, everything kicked back into full gear. Peter’s eyes were tugged open by some invisible force, making them target on the screen in front of him like a magnet to iron. He could tell that his mouth was open wide, but if he was screaming, Peter couldn’t tell. The blaring noise in his ears was reverberating throughout his entire body, which added to the incessant vibrations of the chair.

It was terrifying. Peter was being forced into a sensory-induced panic attack that would only worsen if this all kept going. He started to feel cramped, like he was being pushed into a straight line, only to be spread out across the entire room, then squished again. The constant changing kept him frozen, like any movement at all would cause him to collapse, and then he’d be nothing. He’d be nothing and no one would know or care, and Peter would just be lost. Constantly changing, never ceasing, all alone, plagued by noise and light and dark and vibrating and—

It turned off. As suddenly as it started, it was gone.

Oh, to have that kind of power. To be able to trap someone in their mind for an instant, then immediately pull them out of it. These people, the ones who’d kidnapped him, had that kind of power over him.

Kepler was in his ears again.

“Just admit what I told you, and we can make this all go away,” he whispered with his crackly voice over the speakers. “All we want is for you to know that this isn’t our fault. Tony is the only one responsible for your pain.”

Now that didn’t sound quite right.

He was so confused. Surely it was Tony’s fault? If the man hadn’t made him stay at the Compound, Peter wouldn’t have been kidnapped and this would not be his current situation. But then again, how could Tony have known that the Compound would be ambushed? Surely he wasn’t trying to put Peter in harm’s way? Peter didn’t know all the facts, he didn’t know what was truly going on in the genius’s mind when he forced Peter into that room. There was no way for him to know, Peter hadn’t seen Tony for who knows how long, so what was he supposed to think?

On the one hand, it was entirely Tony’s fault that he was at the Compound when it was raided. 

On the other hand, Peter didn’t know whether it was Tony’s intention for him to be there when it was raided. 

So . . . it wasn’t Tony’s fault . . .

Wait, was that right? Honestly, Peter was just so confused. He wanted to believe that what Tony did was right, but there was no particular reason for him to stay behind other than ‘oh, this mission MIGHT be dangerous!’ Did Tony intend this or not? Peter was so confused.

Peter shook his head. Tony was a good man, he had to stick to that.

This time, there was no warning. Intense fear, brutalized senses, jumbled mind, then gone again.

“Alright, let’s try this again. We have all the time in the world”

* * * * *

Yet another week, and everything was at an ever-increasing standstill. Tony had yet to move from his chair, still clicking his pen with annoyance. The only difference was the growing pile of dishes and rotting, half-eaten food stationed at Tony’s less commonly used workbench.

Other similarities include the lack of knowledge of Peter’s whereabouts. The Avengers were still across the country and further, scavenging known and unknown HYDRA bases without a single success. Tony wanted to be out there, helping in the search for his kid, but everyone insisted that he was needed more in the lab, looking up crap and stuff.

In truth, Tony just felt that they didn’t think he deserved to see the kid again. Not after his mistake.

(Tony kind of felt the same way)

Wherever the kid was now, he probably hated Tony’s guts, despite everything they’d been through together. 

He kind of felt like . . . maybe he should just give up. There didn’t seem to be a point anymore.

And maybe Tony’s just being irrational, he knows that he’s the kid’s only hope, but Tony was the cause of this in the first place. Some mistakes are forgivable, but this one just didn’t seem to be.

When Tony would express his distress on the slight occasion, whoever was listening always seemed to have the same thing to say. ‘Oh, you shouldn’t think that way!’ and ‘You don’t know if the kid actually hates you’ and it was all just a load of crap. Peer pressure that could and should be ignored.

The kid hates him, his mistake is unforgivable, and Tony should just give up. There was no hope.

Besides, this was the kind of case that the NYPD would just sack and claim the kid was already dead. Why couldn’t Tony just give up, too?

Because you love him idiot, his brain shouted.

Yeah, Tony replied. But he doesn’t love me.

Silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now we're starting to see a bit of internal conflict with both Peter and Tony. Peter truly thinks this was Tony's fault, but kinda doesnt wanna admit it, especially to Kepler. Tony is losing hope and blames himself too much. Yah, is no bueno.


End file.
